And All I Saw Was Fireworks
by Dez Wilde
Summary: When Sherlock comes home one day, he and Watson have a fight that lets him know her actual feelings for him. Sorry about the crappy summary... Joanlock R&R Please. Rated T for possible story continuation...
1. Chapter 1

"Just listen to me! You never listen! And that is why you miss the things that are right in front of you. You don't listen, and you don't stop to look. Just listen, and maybe you will find something that you didn't already know. Something important." I took in a deep breath. He never listened. Never. If he would just listen. He would know. He always knew. Everything. Everything but this. "Just look. You'll see it. Trust me." He just stood there, emotionless. Like always. I turned away from him and headed upstairs. I could feel tears falling down my face. If only he knew how much this hurt. If only he wasn't so clueless.

I slid down the closed door and looked around. My room lacked a certain warmth. The warmth that filled it every time he would walk in. The warmth that lit the entire house up when I saw him. I wish he could see it. I wish he knew. If only. I brought my knees to my chest and lay my head on them. I wiped my eyes and my fingers came back a watery black color. Of course, I was a mess. I always am, I'm just usually better at hiding it. When he had walked in the front door, I had been so happy. That was until he started talking about how awful romantic relationships were and how glad he was that he wasn't in one. That's when I broke. That's when I couldn't take him being oblivious. I just hope that he sees it now.

I stood up, realizing that sitting on the floor moping wasn't going to change anything. So instead, I went and changed into my softest pair of pajamas, and crawled into bed, pulling the blankets up over my head, crying myself to sleep.

* * *

When I woke up, I had a headache. That was normal. I really need to stop doing that. Crying always makes my head hurt. I got up and went to the closet, grabbing my bathrobe and wrapping it around my body. I walked to the bathroom down the hall quietly, hoping he wouldn't notice that I was up. I made the trip successfully, and washed all of the runny make-up off of my tear streaked face. I then opened the door and moved to walk out, not realizing that he was right outside. 'Great' I thought, not wanting to face him again. He nodded at me, "Good morning Watson." I gave him a fake smile, and he accepted it, moving out of my way so that I could go back to my room and get dressed. I had a long day up ahead of me.

I changed into some jeans and a nice t-shirt, and on my way out of my bedroom, grabbed my sweater. I walked downstairs, determined not to let him affect me. I walked into the kitchen and was immediately engulfed in the smell of coffee, and hot food. I looked over and saw him sitting at the table, sipping from a mug and petting Clyde. I didn't know what to think of this, and went and sat down across from him. He looked up at me and smiled sadly, he looked miserable. I couldn't help but feel responsible for his misery. I was a little harsh on him the day before. "I'm making breakfast?" He said, it coming out like he was waiting for approval. I smiled, the air feeling less tense than it had before. "Thank you Sherlock, thats very kind of you." He pushed his mug away and lay his head on his folded arms that were resting on the table. "You know, I'm sorry for how I acted yesterday, I had no right to yell at you, I'm sorry."

I looked down at my hands, feeling self-conscious. I saw him lift his head and look at me. "And I had no right to make you cry." I looked up at him in shock, he had seen me crying? He stood and extended a hand towards me. I stood and took it and he pulled me closer to him. Our faces were only a couple inches apart. He put his hands on my shoulders, "You're right, I should have listened, and I should have seen it sooner." His hands shifted, one ending on the back of my neck, and the other on my waist. I put my arms around his neck, and as he pulled me closer, I could feel my eyes fluttering closed. When our lips touched, I couldn't think about anything but him.

The kiss lasted for almost a minute, and it was the best kiss I'd ever had. My first in a while. We parted because we needed air, but I didn't want to, even if it meant suffocation. I leant back so that I could look him in the eye. He had a small smile on his face, clueing me into the fact that he had enjoyed it too. "Watson," He said, then frowned. "Joan," He corrected, "You are amazing, and I'm so sorry I didn't see it sooner." I smiled at him and lay my head on his chest. I closed my eyes and took in a deep breath, just breathing in the scent of him. It was wonderful, and I was content.

We just stood there swaying, our arms around each other. I was sad when one of his hands left my body, he tilted my head towards his and leaned in for another kiss. This one was just as good, maybe even better, than the first. Neither of us noticed the acrid smell of burning food. My eyes closed once again, and all I saw was fireworks…

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**Yeah so I'm not really sure why I wrote this, and I'm not sure whether to make it into a real story. If I do, I have a thing I will do for it to fit. But its cute (I think so anyway) and spontaneous, and my first not Harry Potter fanfiction, so...**

**Review! Tell me what you think! Constructive criticism is welcome and appreciated. Flames will be removed.**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Thank you to everyone who reviewed. I decided to continue it. I just had an idea, and started writing. Sorry it's written in chunks, I have a lot going on... Enjoy!**

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The rest of the day was somewhat perfect. It was surreal, just thinking about how we went from an addict and his sober companion, to partners, to something more. I spent the day sitting in the living room talking with Sherlock. It was nice, being able to talk without it getting too personal. Soon the entire day had slipped away, and it was time for bed. Trying to be a gentleman, he walked me up to my bedroom. He kissed my lips chastly once more and made to leave, but I held his hand tightly, and he stopped in his tracks, turning back to me with a small smile on his face. I smiled at him, "Don't go, just stay with me…"

He squeezed my hand and opened the door to my bedroom. I walked to the closet and dug out my pajamas while he sat on my bed and slipped off his shoes, socks, and shirt. "Turn around." I said, looking at him pointedly. He pouted at me, but obliged. I quickly changed out of my clothes into my pajamas, and turned around, finding him staring up at the ceiling. I walked over to the bed and pulled back the covers. I slipped under, and Sherlock did the same. It felt colder than usual, and I guess that its because I knew that Sherlock was only a few feet away from me, and I wasn't touching him.

I slowly inched closer to him, until I felt his chest touching my back. I glanced over my shoulder and up at his face. His eyes were closed, and he had a smile playing on his lips. I got rid of any remaining space between us, and his arms snaked around my waist, pulling me impossibly closer. He pressed his lips to my hair, and chills shot up my spine. I could feel my face growing hot as his hands slid to rest on my hips and the bottom of my ribcage. His thumbs were drawing circles where they rested, and it felt amazing. The only thing I could think about as I fell asleep was how happy I was.

* * *

When I woke up in the morning, I was sad to realize that Sherlock had moved from the position he had been in last night, leaving an empty tingling feeling on my back and waist. I frowned as I rolled over, wanting to find him so that I could be in his warm embrace once more. A small tear slipped down my cheek when I found that he was no longer there, that he had left after I had fallen asleep. I was slightly angry, and not even bothering to change, or do anything with my hair rather than pull it into a ponytail, I went downstairs, hoping that Sherlock would be waiting for me.

I walked into the kitchen, finding Sherlock sitting at the table, drinking coffee and eating a bowl of cereal, absentmindedly watching Clyde nibble on a cornflake. I walked over to the cabinet and got myself a bowl and spoon, fixing my own breakfast. I sat down, and without even looking up, he said to me, "Morning Watson…" I frowned slightly, spooning cereal into my mouth. Why had he gone back to using my last name. I cleared my throat slightly, and it got his attention. He still didn't look up though, but I started talking anyway, deciding to get it out of the way.

"How come you left last night? You said you would stay, but when I woke up, you weren't there anymore." He then looked up, a confused look on his face, which then morphed into amusement. What was so funny? I asked him a serious question, and he didn't even care… "Watson," he said, a small smile on his face. "Your make-up…" I frowned, I hadn't put on any make-up yesterday, nor that morning. I stood up and ran to the mirror that hung in the entry-way. Sure enough, there was dried mascara and eyeliner streaked down my face. I closed my eyes sadly. That meant that the whole thing, him realizing it, our kiss, us falling asleep together, it had all been a dream. Of course, the one time I am truly happy, its not even real.

* * *

Forgetting about Sherlock, and my breakfast, I ran upstairs, throwing my bedroom door open, walking inside, and slamming it shut. I fell onto my bed and pulled the covers around me. Even if it hadn't been real, the blanket, the extra pillow, they smelled like him. I held the pillow to my chest and cried, and cried, and cried. Of course, it had all been a dream. I didn't want to ever wake up, it hurt too much. There was a knock on the door, but I didn't say anything, I didn't trust myself to speak. I heard the door open, then close again. I could hear his footsteps on the wooden floor. There was a weight on the end of my bed, and I looked over to see him sitting there staring at me.

He cleared his throat, and dropped his head. "I must apologize if I insulted you by laughing, it is now obvious that you were not aware of the minor detail with your make-up…" I laughed, why had I even expected that he came to apologize like in my dream? I was a fool, thinking that what had happened in my dream would actually happen. That had just been me, trying to make myself feel better, when in reality, it did the exact opposite. He was looking at me expectantly, and I realized that I had zoned out. "I-it's alright Sherlock, you didn't know…"

He nodded, and sprang to his feet, seemingly eager to leave the room, and effectively purge the incident, and the conversation. He walked out, and I followed him out, heading to the bathroom to take a shower. The hot water felt good, and ten minutes later I found myself back in my bedroom feeling refreshed. I got dressed in the same thing I wore in my dream, hoping if I made it as similar as possible, it would be true.

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**A/N: I'm sorry it's short, but I just can't think of anything else to write, and this sounded like a good place to end it. Trust me, the chapters will at some point, when I get really into the story, get longer. Just look at my other stories, the chapters are usually four or five pages, and around three thousand words. I'm hoping to get closer to actual book chapter lengths, which is around eleven pages and nine thousand words. The Clyde mention was at the request of my sister Daisy. She feels like he should be included in the story...**

**Review! Tell me what you think! Constructive criticism is welcome and encouraged. Flames will be removed.**


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